The widow was flanked, outgeneralled, routed along the whole line. She
brought forward all her reserve forces of good-breeding, and thus
escaped a disastrous panic by retiring in good order.

The ceremony occurred, as George had announced, the following
Wednesday. The near relatives and best friends of the young couple were
present, and it was a quiet and thoroughly enjoyable affair for all who
participated. An hour after they had been pronounced man and wife,
George and his bride rode away to take the train for the mountains.

"And on her lover's arm she leant,
And round her waist she felt it fold,
And far across the hills they went
In that new world which is the old."

CHAPTER XII.

BABY TALK, OLD DIVES, AND OTHER THINGS.

The cottage seemed dull enough after the departure of George with his
bride. Bessie was so absorbed by the care of our little one that she had
very little time to think of anything else, and in fact the new-comer,
for the time being, monopolized the attention of his grandmother as well
as of his mother. I was therefore left to my own resources.

"Baby is not very well, Charlie," Bessie informed me, one morning, with
an anxious air. "Do you think it would do to wrap him up well and take
him for a little ride this afternoon?"

"Yes, that's a good idea. If I can get that black horse at the livery
stable, I'll bring him around this afternoon. But I don't see why you
should wrap him up. It's hot as blazes."

"You don't know anything about babies, Charlie. Go along. Get a nice,
easy carriage, and we'll take mother with us. I long for a ride."

I departed, and secured the desired "team."

Towards two o'clock I drove up to the cottage, and the entire family
bundled into the vehicle, and we were off. I chose a pleasant, shady
road, and drove slowly, while Bessie and her mother filled the air with
baby talk.

As we were climbing the hill near Linwood, I saw, a short distance ahead
of us, the form of an elderly gentleman toiling up the ascent in the
sun. He seemed fatigued, and stopped as we drew near him, to wipe the
beads of perspiration from his brow.

"Why, it's Mr. Desmond!" exclaimed Bessie.

Sure enough! As he turned toward us I recognized the white vest, the
expansive shirt-front, and the resplendent watch-chain that could belong
to no other than "old Dives" himself.

"How d'ye do?" I cried, halting our fiery steed.

"Ah! Mr. Travers, Mrs. Pinkerton, ho